ObSTREPeroUS

I hate to be one more voice complaining about communicable diseases, but we have been battling the streptococcus at our house. Hudson got the tell-tale rash (scarletina! It sounds like a lovely piano composition!) on Friday, and when we got to the pediatrician, she decided to swab Helena as well, even though she'd been feeling chipper. Chipper, with strep throat. So, she is on her first ever round of antibiotics.  She and Hudson claim the medicine tastes like dirty socks, but I think they actually like it. I am just thankful we have the medicine we need. See how much better they feel? (sorry for the grainy pictures. They were moving really fast.)

The husband has been wanting a canoe. So, we went to REI and bought a red one (along with Much Gear),  strapped it on top of the minivan (I am very sorry not to have a picture of this. It is Griswoldian), and took it out on the bayous of Sugar Land. Since three-fifths of us were not feeling ship-shape, we mostly lolled in the canoe and soaked in some vitamin D while the husband and Harper rowed us around. I see lots of canoe adventures in our family future.

 

It has been a week of firsts for Helena. She also got her first ever new pair of running shoes. She hasn't seemed to mind all of the handed down clothes and shoes, but she was pretty thrilled with how bright and shiny these are. They make her look older, somehow. She has also realized she can pick Sasha up. Sasha is less excited about this than Helena is. There has been quite a bit of smothering and disgruntled growling.

We had our science class at the Museum of Natural Science two weeks ago, and we had the best time with the butterflies afterward. There was an elderly museum volunteer trying to herd recently hatched butterflies from the glass encased butterfly hatchery and it was HIGH comedy. He was so amazing and gentle, grabbing the butterflies and trying to get them into a net hamper so he could release them in the atrium. He would get a blue morpho into the hamper, only he wouldn't zip it closed all the way, so the blue morpho would sneak out and start fluttering around the little room. The kids would then squeal and tap on the glass and point to let him know he had an escapee. We watched for over an hour, then he came out and took us with him for the release. It was a good day.

October 1, 2014

1. Hudson had to stay home from school today. Our first absence. He had a fever, and then he threw up. He made it into our bathroom, which was a relief. He did not quite make it to the toilet, and, unfortunately, SEVEN pairs of the husband's dress pants were draped in the environs of the splatter zone. So, the dry cleaning bill will be higher than usual this month (the dry cleaning bill is usually zero dollars.) Hudson spent most of the day napping on the couch. He also watched "Clone Wars" on Netflix (first time--boys who throw up get special t.v. time) and a couple of Ninjago episodes. Then we did a little of the school work he was missing--chapter 8 of House at Pooh Corner. Piglet was brave. Can a WOL and a silly old bear really be trusted to hoist a Piglet up to the topsy-turvy mail slot? Piglet is not sure at all. We also learned about an animal named a pink fairy armadillo in the animal encyclopedia. It is as cute as you might imagine. We did not accomplish any math or spelling.

2. I don't want to forget that the kids still call us Mommy and Daddy. I don't know when that stops. Never is fine with me.

3. I got a fairly severe paper cut one day last week, and I under-reacted just to model for Helena that it is possible to reign it in. It bled and everything. It was her story Bible that did the cutting. Like an actual sword! Does anyone remember Bible drills wherein we would present our Swords before we frantically rifled trying to find Haggai before our friends did at the Wednesday night church festivities?

4. A few months ago I inadvertently requested a large print book from the library. It was a delightful mistake! Now I do it on purpose! While also utilizing my readers. The font ends up being about a centimeter high.

5. Harper started Suzuki piano lessons in June, and she is making nice progress. I am re-learning with her and, this time around, I love to practice. She seems to really enjoy it too. Just as she did with our gymnastics class (a cartwheel on the high beam! A bounder on the trampoline! A back hip circle on the bars..) she is intent on the next skill, and she works and works. We stopped gymnastics in May and it's possible she can't do any of those skills anymore. At least she can still play piano when she is 85. The bounder on the trampoline? Doubtful.

The paper cut heard round the world

We started a new school. Big News. The kids are on campus (without me!) two days a week, and we do lots of work at home on the days in between. The kids seem to be adjusting really well, and I am trying to get organized so our days at home run more smoothly. As long as we get all of our work done, we take Fridays off to play.

We stopped at Marble Slab to celebrate after the first campus day. The first home day was pretty frazzled, but we managed to get everything finished (at 5 p.m.) Then, on the third home day, when I thought things were going pretty well, Helena got a paper cut just after breakfast, and her reaction was EPIC. It went from drama to high drama to higher drama. Of course she could NOT write, even though the cut was on her left hand, and she is right-handed. Then just when she would decide she might be able to stop howling about it, some fresh new indignation would occur (salt, soap, air) and the shrieking sorrow would begin again. I finally asked her WHAT I could do to HELP and she wailed, "I just need you to feel SORRIER for me!" So I tried to feel sorrier.


You might imagine that I have plans aplenty for my days at home alone. One is to blog more frequently. May it be so!

Independence days

All three of my kids can now swim independently. Helena does this slow dog paddle thing and lets her head sort of loll back into the water. It looks pretty much like drowning, but I can tell by the blissed out smile on her face that all is well. She goes down the twisty slide over and over, while the other two dive and dart and canonball. It seems like it was just a few weeks ago that I had a four year old, a two year old, and an infant, and the thought of going to the pool filled me with great angst. And now I can read a book while they all swim.

I just finished (and loved) North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell. It has been a reading sort of summer. Lots of novels (The Storied Life of A.J. Fickry by Gabrielle Zevin, The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell, Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald by Therese Anne Fowler, This Side of Paradise and a few short stories by Zelda's husband, The Twleve by Justin Cronin, Rules of Civility by Amor Towles, and Where'd You Go Bernadette? by Maria Semple. I read The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt in there somewhere too--but maybe it was still spring.) Margie sent me 84 Charing Cross Road (loved! emphatically recommend) by Helene Hanff, and it made for a delightful afternoon at the beach. I also read one of Brene Brown's books on vulnerability, mostly because I kept seeing her name referenced in articles I was reading. I don't really read much nonfiction, except biographies and the rare memoir, and this book did not persuade me to change that. Is that vulnerable that I just confessed that?

 We had a scissor-tailed flycatcher family in a pine tree on our way to the pool. We discovered them because we saw the male having an aerial spat with a vulture 10 times his size. He chased it and pecked it until they were tiny dots so far in the sky we could barely see them. Then, finally, Daddy scissor-tail swooped back down to the nest, sans vulture. He and Mrs. Scissor-tail were really vigilant  parents, and yet only two of the four babies survived (one was smashed by a car, the other was beheaded by a cat or maybe a bird of prey. Yes, I grieved more than is appropriate. I mean WHY WOULD YOU GIVE FLYING LESSONS OVER A BUSY STREET???)  They actually moved from the pine tree to group of oaks right outside of our house for their final days of flight lessons, which was considerate of them. However, I also spent more time than was Probably Normal checking on those two fuzzy, adorable, tweeting survivors, clapping and scolding when grackles and mockingbirds got too close. Feel free to join my neighbors in referring to me as Crazed Bird Lady.

So, the summer flies by. We read and swim and eat at fairly regular intervals. Big changes are on the horizon, and I am trying to "dare greatly" and get dirty in the arena etc.

Prized.

When Harper was 6 she saw a commercial on PBS (they actually don't call them" commercials", they have another, less capitalistic, less corporate, less greedy word for them) for a story contest. She decided she was going to enter the contest and WIN. She wrote and illustrated a cute story about a stingray and some other sea animals. She did not win, but she got a nice certificate. Undaunted, she entered again last year. This story was about her stuffed puppy Sasha entering a horseback riding competition. Sasha won the horseback riding competition, but the story did not win the story contest. Again, Harper got a nice certificate for her participation. She was a little disappointed, but not as much as I expected she might be.

I thought maybe she wouldn't want to enter the contest this year, but mentioned it casually when I got an email about it. She decided she would write a story about a bald eagle. She worked really hard on the watercolor illustrations. She researched details, and we had some great practice distinguishing between "summarizing" and "plagiarizing." She titled it A Bald Eagle's Journey. And the third year was the charm! She was named a finalist, and we all got to go to an awards ceremony at the Children's Museum. She got a medal and a backpack full of public broadcasting "swag" which included a ruler, several pencils, a Highlights magazine, some Daniel Tiger Stickers, and some sort of Leap Pad game that requires a Leap Pad (which we don't have). It was all pretty thrilling. We are proud of her.

I hope she always loves creating. I hope she always finds joy in a good story. I hope she is always as tenacious as she is now. 

If wishes were puppies.

Our neighborhood pool is open at last. We went for a swim yesterday afternoon and Helena was having such a terrific time that when I told her it was time to get out, she did, but then she said this:

"I wish I didn't have a Mommy because then I could do whatever I wanted and I wouldn't have to obey."

Her tone was pleasant and polite so I didn't take it very personally. I actually love that she says exactly what is on her mind. I did wonder aloud who would tuck her in and give her kisses and prepare her food. She thought for a second, then:

"I think a big dog could take care of me and do all of those things."

So, she was listening after all when I read Peter Pan aloud a couple of years ago. Helena needs a Nana who will let her stay in the pool as long as she wishes. Though I don't think Nana would do a very good job buttoning dresses or putting hair in buns.

In other hair news, a few weeks ago, we were moving some furniture around and Harper discovered some golden curls behind the play kitchen. Were they from a doll? They were not. Helena confessed that she has been giving herself trims. With all of the curls, it was tricky to see, but she definitely did some damage in the general bangs region. She couldn't explain why exactly, but I think it might be her response to all of the comments she gets about her pretty curls. She doesn't necessarily love strangers telling her that her hair is SO PRETTY every time we go out. This is the look she generally uses as her response:

In other hair news, this conversation:

Helena: Mommy. Can you please make a bun in this ballerina Barbie's hair?
Me: Would you like a high bun or a low bun?
Helena: Hudson! Do you want a high bun or a low bun?

Brother of the year, for sure. He has a GI Joe action figure that condescends to interact with the ballerina Barbies on occasion. And apparently, GI Joe likes a lady with an updo.

I realize I never did Helena's birthday interview, and I hope to at some point. The only thing she wanted for her birthday was Barbies. (Maybe you will remember my aversion). I really tried to redirect her wishes, but she was determined. So, she got four ballerina Barbies (including a ridiculous looking Ken ballerino) and a bride (all from grandparents). She pulls them out about twice a month, and they all switch clothes, do a few pirouettes, and maybe some Krav Maga with GI Joe.After a few days of enthusiasm, they get pushed under her bed, forgotten.

In other Helena news, she lost her first tooth today! This is much earlier than the other two lost any of theirs. They were both close to 7. The tooth fairy has realized that a dollar a tooth is probably more than she wants to pay for all of these teeth falling out. She didn't really think it through. SIXTY baby teeth.

The arts are very fine.

I have many posts coming. Just you wait!

This semester we did some homeschool art classes at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts. The instructor was this delightful diminutive French lady who was Montessori trained and who also, it came out, was educated in art at Cambridge (England, not Boston). She had such a wonderful way with kids and with art, and we really enjoyed her tutelage. We learned about Georges Braques, the watercolors of John Singer Sargent, and renaissance art.

 Here are the visuals.

Braques: (he liked collage)

 

A fountain in Venice a la John Singer Sargent: (the art teacher had to talk Harper down on this one. Harper had almost rubbed a hole in her watercolor paper with erasing.) Then, with 10 minutes left she managed this loveliness with oil pastels:

Then, a Renaissance rendering of the Blessed Mother.

 By Helena:

 

By me:

 

By Harper:

 

And by Hudson:

 

 

Mary: NINJA STYLE.

 

This week I am going to attempt to write about our glorious vacation. Also, Harper won a contest.